Las Vegas
by Seshat0120
Summary: Against his better judgment, Sam let’s Al drag him off to Las Vegas for a minivacation. The trip ends up being anything but a vacation.
1. Chapter 1

**Las Vegas**

_by Seshat0120_

_Disclaimer: Quantum Leap and all related characters are owned by Belisarius Productions and Universal. No profit has been made off of the writing or distribution of this piece of fiction._

**Chapter 1**

"C'mon, Sam, Al coaxed. Tell me the last time you took anytime off. You've been pushing yourself too damned hard. You need to take sometime for yourself. It's a long weekend. You should be doing something fun and not going back to the labs to work more." He was sitting slumped on the beaten-up living room couch Sam had in his rented apartment. It was late on a Friday night and he'd finally convinced the younger man that it really was ok to quit for the weekend and go home. Since Sam's car had broken down, yet again, Al had given him a ride home.

While Al relaxed on the couch, Sam was bustling around the room cleaning up. He hadn't had much time to tidy the room or the apartment up since he'd been working late the whole week. Mail had piled up by the door and a collection of dirty plates and cups had grown on the coffee table. "No way, Al. I went on 'vacation' with you once before." The inflection in Sam's voice put quotation marks around the word "vacation" conveying just how he felt about his past experience with Al and the vacation concept. He disappeared through the doorway into the kitchen carrying an assortment of dirty dishes while he continued to talk. "I don't need a repeat of New Jersey all over again, thank you very much."

"It's not going to be like that," Al promised as he followed Sam into the kitchen. While the younger man loaded the dirty dishes into the dishwasher, Al pulled open the refrigerator door and poked his head into it hunting for something to drink. "Geez, you ever think of going grocery shopping every once and a while," he groused as he pulled his head back out. In his hand he held the lone bottle of water that had been in the refrigerator. Swinging the door shut, he continued his attempt to persuade Sam to take some time away. "I promise you, this won't be a repeat of New Jersey. There won't be any oceans, or storms, or floods." He threw his arms wide and gave Sam the most sincere look he could muster. "Trust me, have I ever steered you wrong?"

"That's what I'm afraid of," Sam pointed out as he swung the dishwasher shut. He leaned back against the sink with his arms crossed over his chest. "Just what did you have in mind anyway?" he asked as his curiosity got the better of him.

Al's face took on an ethereal, blissful look. "Las Vegas," he intoned as if he were promising Sam a trip to Nirvana.

Hearing Al's plans, Sam's face screwed up in distaste. "Las Vegas," he repeated. His tone of voice made the city sound as if it was synonymous with a garbage dump. He pushed away from the sink and began to clear off the kitchen table. Picking up a carton of milk that had been forgotten on the table, he opened it up and took a whiff from it. His face screwed up in distaste again when he got a smell of the soured milk. "There is no way I'm going to Las Vegas," he declared as he poured the spoiled milk down the drain and tossed the carton in the trash.

Without being asked, Al grabbed the box of cereal that was on the table, closed it and returned it to one of the cupboards. "Oh, c'mon, Kid. You can't tell me you don't love Vegas," he asked in complete disbelief. "How can anyone not love Vegas?" Al leaned back against the counter opposite Sam, a dreamy expression on his face. "Bright lights, gambling, showgirls," his voice rose gleefully as he named off each of the attributes of Las Vegas as he saw them.

Again, Sam leaned back against the sink, his arms crossed over his chest and his ankles crossed in front of him. "Sorry, all that doesn't appeal to me. You go on if I you want but I'd rather just stay here and catch up on some work." A shy grin crept over Sam's face to go along with a slight blush as he looked down to his shoes. "I was…uh…thinking of seeing if Donna wanted to go to dinner or a movie or something," he said very softly.

Al couldn't resist a chuckle at Sam's demeanor. He'd never seen anyone as shy around the opposite sex as Sam was and he usually couldn't resist ribbing the younger man because of it. Right now was no exception. "So, you're actually getting up the gumption to ask her out on a second date, huh? Does that mean you move all the way up to hand-holding?"

At Al's teasing, Sam's head jerked up pinning the laughing man with a hazel-eyed glare. "Just because I don't move as fast as you do doesn't mean you can laugh. Donna's...special. She deserves to be treated that way."

Al held his hands up in surrender. "Whoa, I didn't mean any disrespect toward Donna. I was just teasing you, ok."

"Yeah, well. Just don't, ok." Sam pushed away from the sink going back into the living room and dropping down boneless to the couch.

"You're barking up the wrong tree this weekend anyway." Al slumped down next to Sam on the couch and took a swig out of the bottle of water.

"What do you mean?" Sam only paid a small portion of attention to Al as he dug between the sofa cushions in search of the remote control.

"Oh, guess she didn't tell you." Al watched with amusement as Sam searched for elusive remote. It seemed every time he visited the kid, he went on the same search. "I overheard her talking to a couple of the admins when she was in the office earlier today. She said she was flying out tonight to spend the weekend with her mother."

Sam finally pulled the remote from where it had slipped between the seatback and the cushion. There was none of his usual triumph when he found it and, instead, he seemed a little disheartened. "Oh, well, I guess I can't expect her to tell me everything. I mean, we only went on one date." He did his best to hide his disappointment but it was still obvious to Al.

"Boy, you really got it bad for her, don't you?" Al asked in surprise.

Sam tried to shrug off Al's observation and turned on the TV. "I just think she's…interesting, that's all. I don't have it bad for her, as you so nicely put it."

"Uh huh," Al agreed though he didn't sound like he agreed with Sam's assessment at all. Instead of pressing the issue of Sam's feelings toward Donna, he returned to his earlier topic of conversation. "So that means you've got no plans for the weekend." Before Sam could open his mouth to counter Al's assessment, Al pushed on. "Don't tell me you're going to go and do work for the weekend 'cause I'm not going to let you. StarBright will get along fine without you for a couple of days. It's a holiday weekend and you're going to enjoy yourself if it kills you."

Sam leaned his head back against the top of the couch and sighed. "You take me to Las Vegas and it just might." Blowing out a breath, Sam straightened up and faced Al. "Ok, I'll go with you but it doesn't mean I'm going to enjoy myself."

"So glad you can keep a positive outlook on this, Kid." Al stood up from the couch and headed for the door. "I'll pick you up at about 6:30 tomorrow morning. Our flight leaves at 8:50."

"Our flight?" Sam questioned as he got up and walked Al to the door. "You already booked a flight? Weren't you just a little too confident that I'd agree to this?"

"Kid, as soon as I found out Donna was going away for the weekend, I knew you'd agreed. It's either that or you'd be moping around here all weekend. Maybe I'm just getting to know you better than you know yourself." Smirking at Sam, Al pulled the door shut before the younger man could respond.

Sam watched as the door swung shut and let out another sigh wondering what he gotten himself into. Shaking his head at Al's overconfidence, he turned off the TV and headed for his bedroom. He'd have to be getting up early in the morning to be ready the time Al got there so he figured he might as well go to bed now. At least, he thought, they were flying and not driving. He wasn't sure he had the courage to get in a car that Al was driving for that long. The man's driving made a rollercoaster look tame.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

It was nearly noon by the time Sam and Al arrived at the hotel. Al had informed Sam on the plane that he'd booked them rooms at Caesar's Palace. Despite his reluctance to actually go to Las Vegas, Sam did have to confess to a slight curiosity to see what the hotel was like.

When they arrived at the check-in desk of Caesar's, Sam's ears already seemed to be ringing from the nearly non-stop noise of slot machines. As soon as they'd stepped foot off the plane, they'd been greeted with them. Now, standing in the highly polished marble lobby of Caesar's Palace, they were only steps away from the casino and the sound seemed to have tripled. Sam couldn't imagine what it would be like to stand in the midst of the machines.

While Al took care of checking them in, Sam stood slightly off to the side with their luggage. Al had insisted that he was taking care of all the expenses for the flight and the hotel and Sam quickly concluded it would be easier to just agree with him than go through the song and dance of who was paying for what. He'd nearly tuned out the exchange between Al and the desk clerk when he heard Al's voice rise slightly in frustration. "What do you mean you only have one reservation? I know I made reservations for two rooms at the same time. Look again."

Dutifully, the desk clerk picked at the keys of the computer before again giving Al the bad news. "I'm sorry sir, we only have one reservation in here under the name Calavicci."

"This is not happening," Al muttered. "Ok, do you have anything under Beckett?"

Again the clerk picked away at the computer. "No sir, there's nothing under the name Beckett. Are you sure you made two reservations? Could you be mistaken?"

"Of course I could," Al agreed. "But I'm not." He pulled a folded piece of paper out of his pocket and handed it to the clerk. "I have two confirmation numbers for two rooms. Why don't you try putting these in?"

The clerk accepted the paper from Al and attempted to look for the two rooms with the confirmation numbers. This time he seemed to have more success but it didn't look like he had good news to impart. "Oh dear, it looks like there was a bit of a mix-up and one of the rooms was cancelled." He handed the sheet of paper back to Al. "I'm so sorry."

Sam thought for sure that Al would lose his temper at the news but something about the atmosphere must have relaxed him. "No problem, we all make mistakes. Can you just get us another room?"

Curiously, Sam watched as the desk clerk began to fidget like a child caught doing mischief. "Well, you see, Sir, that's the problem. There are no rooms. There are several conventions in town and we're booked."

Sam started to count silently to himself backwards from five knowing that when he reached one, Al would most likely lose his temper. He chastised himself for not knowing his friend as well as he did when the loss of temper came at the count of two and not one.

"What do you mean, you're booked? You lose the room reservation and now we're supposed to be SOL. I don't think so. If I were you, I'd start banging away on that keyboard again and come up with another room really fast."

"But, Sir…" the desk clerk protested.

"Don't 'but' me, Mister. Your computer there has lost one of the reservations so it better find it damned quick."

Sensing that Al's temper was only going to keep rising and that the desk clerk really couldn't do anything to help, Sam tried to step into the breach. "Al, I'm sure we'll be fine with the one room. Really, it's ok if it's not separate room."

Al rounded on Sam, his frustration spilling over to the younger man. "It's not ok, Sam. They made a mistake they need to fix it."

"They can't make a room out of nothing," Sam tried to reason. Lower, so that Al could barely hear he added, "I knew I shouldn't have come."

Having just barely heard what Sam said, Al looked between the desk clerk and his friend before coming to a decision. "Ok, how many beds in the room. Maybe we can make it work."

Again, the clerk plugged away at the computer. When he looked up at the two men standing on the opposite side of the desk, he looked chagrined. "Uh…it's a single, Sir. There's only one king-sized bed in it."

Knowing that the news was only going to inflame his friend more, Sam leaned both elbows on the counter and buried his face in his hands. They weren't even checked into their hotel and already the weekend away was turning into the nightmare he'd been afraid of. He didn't even bother counting down until Al lost his temper this time. It just wasn't worth it.

Sam was surprised when it wasn't Al's voice he next heard but a completely new one and lifted his head enough to see a manager walking into the fray. "Is there a problem here, Gentlemen?"

The man hadn't quite answered the question before Al launched into a description of the problem as he saw it. Sam was convinced that they'd be given yet another apology and told there was nothing to be done. His second surprise came when the manager took his turn at the computer and not only started to apologize but offer a solution that Al seemed quite pleased with.

"You have our deepest apologies, Admiral. I'm not sure how this error happened. While it's true we no longer have any single rooms available, I hope you'll find it acceptable if we offer you a suite with two sleeping areas for the same rate."

Sam was impressed, to the say the least, at the manager's offer and he began to wonder just how often it was that Al frequented the casino and hotel that he had, apparently made such an impression. Sneaking a peek in Al's direction, he was sure he saw mild surprise on Al's face as well.

"That's sounds acceptable," Al agreed with the manager hiding his own reaction to the offer. "That sound good to you, Sam?"

Sam wasn't as able to hide his reaction stumbling over his answer. "Uh, yeah, I guess so."

"Good, then it's all settled." The manager was fairly beaming at Al's acceptance.

A few minutes later, a toga-clad bellhop was showing them to their suite. While Al took care of tipping the man, Sam tried his best not to stare at his surroundings in open-mouthed wonder. It had never crossed his mind that a mere hotel room could be as big as the room he was standing in – and it didn't even include the sleeping areas. Just the living room area was bigger than the living room in his apartment. Hell, he could probably fit his entire apartment into this one space.

"Close your mouth, you're catching flies," Al admonished after he'd closed the door behind the bellhop. He was completely non-plussed by his surroundings as he made his way to a door leading to one of the bedrooms. When he came out a few minutes later, Sam was still walking around the living room taking it all in.

"How the heck much does all this cost?" Sam asked in wonder looking over to Al.

"Who knows and who cares," the older man glibly answered. "It's their screw-up so we don't have to worry about how much all of this should cost. He picked Sam's suitcase up from where it still stood by the closed door and walked in the direction of the other bedroom. Sam followed silently behind and again stared in open-mouthed wonder when he walked into the bedroom. "You gotta stop doing your impression of a fish out of water, Kid, or everyone's going to think you're some wet-behind-the ears kid fresh off the farm."

Silently, Sam nodded his agreement with Al but he didn't look much less impressed by the opulence surrounding him.

"C'mon," Al prompted, "Let's hit the casino and see if Lady Luck is with us today…or any lady for that matter."

Sam opened his suitcase and started pulling the contents from it. "Nah, you go on ahead. I think I'm just gonna stay up here and take it easy for a little while."

"Please tell me you did not come all the way to Las Vegas just to sit in the hotel room the entire weekend." Al said the words as if he'd be mortally wounded if Sam didn't heed his pea.

"No, Al, I will not stay in the hotel room the whole weekend," Sam said with a put-upon tone. "I just want to relax for a little while. I didn't think that was a crime."

"Well, ok," Al said but he was only slightly mollified. "But I'm coming back at dinner time and if you're still here I'm going to drag your butt kicking and screaming from this room if I have to. Capiche?"

"Yeah, yeah I capiche," Sam agreed all but pushing Al from the bedroom. "Go on and have your fun. I'll be down soon."

"You better," Al threw over his shoulder before leaving the suite.

Once Al was gone, Sam let out a small breath and returned to the task of unpacking his suitcase. For the most part, he got along great with Al despite the fact that they were nearly opposites of each other. He'd been right when he thought he saw something special, something worthwhile in Al that first time he saw him. Despite the fact that the man had been falling down drunk and beating up a vending machine with a hammer there had been something about the man that struck a chord in Sam. He'd never regret befriending the man or doing what he could to help him recover from the crap that life had thrown his way. He hadn't been just putting on a show when he'd gone to bat for Al telling the committee overseeing the StarBright project that they'd be sorry if they lost the man.

Taking all that into consideration, there were still times when Sam found Al's exuberance for life just a little too much to take in all at once. Sam had spent most of his life either growing up on a farm in a small town or sheltered in schools and labs. He didn't take to the bright lights and fast living in quite the same way Al did. He had to ease into and even then he often felt like a fish out of water.

The taste he'd had of the casino just viewing it from the lobby was enough for now. Later, when he'd relaxed from the trip, he'd be more up to facing the general cacophony that the casinos were.

Finished pulling the minimal amount of clothing he'd brought with him from his bag, he grabbed his shaving kit and headed for the door to what he assumed was the bathroom. Pushing it open he felt like he'd walked into another world instead of another room and he again gawked open-mouthed at the bathroom when he saw the marble and gilt fixtures. Shaking his head, he exited the room after leaving his shaving kit on the counter. "Who the heck needs all that in a bathroom?" he wondered out loud.

Pulling the last item from his bag, a novel he'd been meaning to read for a couple of months but never found the time to, he went back to the living room. He stopped at the windows long enough to take in the view of the strip repressing the shiver that ran through his body when he looked down to the street below. He'd never liked heights and probably never would. Satisfied that he'd seen the view on offer, he stretched out on the very comfortable looking couch opening the book and preparing to do nothing but lay there and read until Al came back for dinner.

He got his wish for about 15 minutes before he let the book fall open across his chest. Blinking rapidly before squeezing his eyes tightly closed, he pinched the bridge of his nose. Tossing his book onto the nearby coffee table, Sam pushed up from the couch heading back to the bathroom in his bedroom in search of the bottle of aspirin he was fairly certain he'd tossed into his shave kit.

Considering that he'd been up earlier than usual this morning, the flight into Vegas, the hassle to get their room straightened out, it came as no wonder to Sam that he was starting to get a headache. It didn't help matters any that he hadn't eaten anything for lunch and it was now after 1:00.

Retrieving the bottle of aspirin, Sam shook out two into his hand and swallowed them with a drink of water from one of the bottles left on the counter in the bathroom. Returning to the living room, he searched the desk there finding the room service menu. Ignoring the too-high prices listed next to the food selections, Sam called down placing an order to be delivered to the room. By the time it came, the aspirin should have kicked in and the combination of that and putting some food in his body would have him feeling right as rain long before Al made his return.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

It was just a little bit after 7:00 when Al returned to the suite he and Sam were sharing. He'd had quite an interesting afternoon and was planning on having an equally interesting night. First things first, though. He wanted to take a shower and change. Then, if Sam was still in the room, he was going to drag him out and downstairs for dinner before introducing him to the concept of "fun". Sometimes he thought the younger man wasn't very well acquainted with the idea.

If Sam surprised him and had actually gone out on his own, Al planned on meeting the lovely Melody for dinner and who knew what else. She'd been his lucky charm earlier at the craps table and was interested to see what other charms the lovely lady had.

Pushing the door open, he was surprised to walk into a totally dark room. The drapes had been drawn over the windows that overlooked the strip blocking the bright lights from penetrating into the room. The only visible source of light was a dim glow coming from under the doorway that led to Sam's room.

"Geez," Al complained as he flipped on the light switch closest to the door. "If you're going out the least you can do is leave a little light on so I don't trip and break my neck." He was surprised to hear a soft moan in answer to his complaint.

"Sam?" he called out approaching the couch that it sounded like the noise had come from. With the back of the couch to him, he couldn't see who was on it and sincerely hoped that he wasn't interrupting anything. It didn't cross his mind that Sam would bring a woman back to the suite but you never know. Although, he realized, it really didn't sound much like a moan of passion.

Not getting an answer, he peeked over the couch and saw that he'd been right; it was just Sam who was there. He as curled up with a throw pillow cushioning his head and he didn't look well at all. "Hey, you ok?" Al asked in concern. Sam had seemed healthy enough when he'd left him but that didn't mean something couldn't have happened in the intervening hours.

Walking around to the other side of the sofa, Al sat down on the coffee table and gently shook Sam's shoulder. "You ok, Kid?" he asked again in concern. He could see that Sam had his eyes squeezed tightly shut and he looked like he was in a fair amount of pain.

Sam managed the barest of nods. "Yeah, I'm ok" he forced out though he looked anything but.

"You don't look ok to me," Al opined. "You look like you're hurting pretty bad. What happened? What'd you do?"

"I didn't do anything," Sam forced out in a low voice. He opened his eyes just enough to squint in Al's direction. "It's just a headache, that's all."

"You sure it's just a headache?" Al asked quizzically. "You look like you're in more pain than just headache not to mention you're white as ghost and you look like you're gonna toss you cookies at any second."

Groaning at Al's words, Sam levered himself up from the couch as quickly as he could, one hand over his mouth, and nearly ran in the direction of the bathroom in his bedroom. Al followed as far as the bedroom door but the sounds of retching coming out of the bathroom had him backing away quickly. He'd never done well when others were sick and all of his ex-wives would swear to that. Besides, he reasoned, if the kid was anything like him, he wouldn't want an audience while he was tossing his cookies.

Wandering around the living room, he noticed the room service tray on the dining table. Picking up the lid on it, he saw the remains of a half-eaten sandwich and salad and figured it must have been Sam's lunch. So, whatever was wrong with him must have happened after he'd eaten. Very faintly, the noise of retching again reached his ears and Al began to wonder if Sam had picked up a touch of food poisoning from his lunch. Grimacing sympathetically at the thought, he replaced the cover on the tray and picked up the whole thing to leave it outside the door. If it was the cause of whatever was bothering Sam, he probably wouldn't want to see it.

Five minutes later, Sam made his way back to the living room and sat slumped on the couch. He kept his eyes downcast with one hand shading them. "You think you can kill the light so it's not as bright," he quietly asked. "It feels like a laser going through my eyes."

Al quickly switched off the bright light he'd turned on when he entered the room and, instead, turned on the small lamp on the desk. It wasn't anywhere near as bright as the overhead light giving the room a dim glow.

Again, Al sat on the coffee table in front of Sam and looked critically at him. Even with the bright light turned off and just the dimmer one, he was still sitting with his hand cupped over his eyes and he didn't look any better for having vomited than he did before. "How long has this been going on?"

"It started a couple of hours ago." Sam kept his voice soft and Al had to strain to hear him. "I thought if I took some aspirin and ate something it would go away but it didn't. It got worse." He leaned his head back against the seatback and dug the heel of his palms into his eyes. "God, it feels like someone's got a steel band around my head and they just keep tightening it."

"Are you sure this is just a headache?" Al asked. He'd had some really bad headaches before but he couldn't ever remember one making him feel the way Sam seemed to feel. The closest he could remember to that was when he'd had a concussion. Maybe, he started to think, that was what was wrong with Sam. "You didn't hit your head or anything, did you?"

"No," Sam sighed. "I didn't hit my head."

"Then I don't see why you're this sick with just a headache. You sure there isn't something else wrong with you? Maybe it wouldn't be a bad idea to see if there's a house doctor or something."

Sam uncovered his eyes and looked balefully at Al. "You do remember I am a medical doctor, too, don't you?"

"Of course, I remember. I just figured if something really wrong with you it would be a better idea to have another doctor check." Al's words started to tumble out quickly as he attempted to make up for any slight Sam might have heard in his words. It was true that on occasion it did slip Al's mind that among all of the doctorates that Sam held one was in medicine. He'd grown so used to thinking of him as a physicist first. He knew he shouldn't do that and that it was selling his friend short. After all, he'd seen Sam put his medical skills to use more than a few times and had even benefited from them in the past. "I just though it would be a good idea to, you know, double check or something," he finished as his voice trailed off at the end.

Sam waved over the apology he heard in Al's words. "I don't need a doctor, Al. Trust me." He looked speculatively at his older friend. "You've never had a migraine, have you?"

Al thought carefully and realized that Sam was right. "No, I guess I never had. Is that what this one is?"

The nod Sam gave was barely perceptible. "Mmmhmmm. It's just a classic migraine. There's not much I can do but let it run its course."

"And it's perfectly normal to have the pukies?"

Sam wrinkled his nose at Al's description. "Unfortunately, yeah."

"And what about light?" Al pressed on. "It looks like the light's bothering your eyes."

"That's normal too," Sam sighed. "Light, sound, smell; it all seems multiplied with a migraine." Sam pushed up from the couch and started toward his bedroom. "Look, I'm just gonna go to bed. Maybe if I get some sleep it'll be ok tomorrow. You don't need to hang around here with me. I'll be fine by myself."

"Are you sure you'll be ok by yourself?" Al wasn't at all convinced that would be for the best. Sam looked pretty unsteady making Al think he should stick around just in case.

Sam reached the doorway and turned around to face Al, squinting he eyes against the small amount of light. "I'm sure, Al. Go on and have fun. You shouldn't be stuck in here because of me. Really, I'll be fine. I'm just gonna sleep, that's all."

"Well, if you sure."

"I am," Sam reiterated before going into the bedroom and pushing the door closed.

Al stood in place in the living room for just a few more moments unsure if he should heed what Sam had or not. He finally decided that, as a doctor, Sam would know what was best. If he said he'd be fine on his own then he probably would be. Besides, if he was anything like Al, he probably didn't want anyone hanging over him when he wasn't feeling well. And anyway, the kid did say if he got some sleep he'd be better in the morning and how much sleep could you get with someone hanging over you.

Convinced that Sam would not only be ok by himself but would be recovered by morning, Al headed for the bathroom in his bedroom to take the shower he'd been looking forward to and to change his clothes. With any luck, he'd be able to find Melody in short order.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

Al let himself in as quietly as possible when he returned to the suite later that night. To be exact, it was actually very early morning. He didn't want to risk waking Sam from sleep. As soon as he stepped in and let the door swing close behind him, he realized that it didn't really matter much as the sounds of vomiting wafted out to him from Sam's room.

He'd spent the entire evening trying to put Sam and the migraine out of his mind trusting that the younger man really would be fine. There'd been occasional twinges of guilt when he thought about the fact that while he was enjoying himself, Sam was suffering upstairs. He kept dismissing the twinges of guilt by telling himself that Sam was sleeping off the headache and he'd be a-ok come morning. He realized now that that probably wouldn't be the case.

"Sam?" he called out softly as he remembered Sam telling him that sounds seemed louder to him because of the migraine. More retching was the only answer to his query and he cautiously made his way into Sam's room. He stopped at the bathroom door just as Sam collapsed back on his heels, breathing heavily.

The bathroom was lit only by the very soft and faint glow from the nightlight on the base of the hairdryer plugged in in the corner of the room. A small amount of light leaked in from the light that was on in the living room. Even in the faint light, Al was able to make out how pale Sam's face was and that it was sheened with perspiration. In spite of that, his body convulsed slightly with a shiver. Clad as he was in an over-sized t-shirt and a ratty pair of sweat-pants, Al knew the cold from the marble floor was seeping through.

"Al? You're back?" Sam gasped out as he squinted up in Al's direction.

Squatting down beside his ill friend, Al rested a hand lightly on his shoulder. "Yeah, I just got back. I thought you'd be feeling better by now or at least getting some sleep."

Sam started to shake his head but aborted the movement quickly. "I tried. It just hurts so bad I can't seem to get to sleep."

"You mean you've been awake the whole time I was out?" Al exclaimed.

Sam whimpered softly and pulled away from Al. "Don't yell," he gasped out. "Please don't yell. It hurts."

"I'm sorry, Sam. I'm sorry." Al made it a point to keep his voice low when he saw the effect his exclamation had had. "I didn't mean to cause you more pain. I thought you said you'd sleep and then you'd get better."

"Didn't happen," Sam gasped out before lunging forward once again as the nausea took hold. There wasn't very much in his stomach to expel anymore but that didn't stop the dry heaves.

When he settled back once again, Al got up from his place on the floor, wet a washcloth in cool water, and handed it to Sam. "Thanks," the younger man muttered as he took the washcloth and used it to wipe off his mouth and chin. Unsteadily, he pushed up to his feet and, without thinking, Al leaned around him to flush the toilet and get rid of the mess inside it. Again, Sam winced and whimpered as the noise assaulted him.

"I'm so sorry," Al offered in heartfelt apology when he realized what his unconscious act had done to his friend. "I didn't think."

"S'ok," Sam offered in a whisper before pushing past Al and out of the room. He made his unsteady way across the nearly dark bedroom and sank down on the bed. "I just wanna sleep and have it go away," he groaned as he reached behind trying to snag the edge of the blanket to pull over his chilled body.

Al watched for a few quiet moments by the bathroom door before approaching the bed and pulling the blankets over Sam. "Maybe…maybe this more than just a migraine," he offered. "Maybe you really should see a doctor."

"It's not, Al. Really, it's just a migraine. I've had enough of them in my life to know." Sam took a deep breath and let it out slowly squeezing his eyes tightly shut as another bolt of pain shot through his head. "I might wish I could die right now but it's not going to happen." He forced his eyes open looking up at Al in the dim light filtering into the bedroom and put all the sincerity he could into his eyes and voice. "Trust me, ok. I really do need to just sleep and I'll be ok."

Al was unsure but nodded anyway and began to back away from the bed. "You'll let me know if you need anything, right?"

"I promise, I will. Now go on and get some sleep yourself." Sam forced a small smile onto his face. "You've got a big day of fun tomorrow and you need your rest."

Nodding but still unsure, Al quietly slipped from the room. He made sure the security lock was on the door before making his way into his bedroom and stripping off his clothes and slipping between the sheets. He lay awake staring at the ceiling and straining to hear if there were any sounds coming from Sam's room.

An hour after he'd gone to bed and still unable to sleep, Al slipped from his bed and padded out to the living room and over to Sam's bedroom. Pushing open the door the younger man's room, he poked his head in trying to ascertain if Sam were sleeping or awake.

He was lying very still in the bed, his body curled into a tight fetal position. In that position, he looked lost in the large, queen-sized bed. Slowly and quietly, Al crept across the room to stand by the bed. Sam didn't show any sign of being awake and Al took that as a good omen that he'd fallen asleep. Standing next to the bed for several long minutes, Al watched him closely in the gloomy darkness until he was sure that Sam's chest was rising and falling in a steady rhythm. It was only then that he crept out of the room and back to his own. As he pulled Sam's door shut, he didn't notice the younger man lift his head from the pillow all too aware that his friend had been standing over him and checking on him. He didn't see the small, heartfelt smile the knowledge brought to Sam's face despite the pain he still experienced.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

Long after Al pulled Sam's door shut, the younger man still lay awake in the bed. The pain had become a steady drumbeat in time with the beating of his heart. Occasionally, a sharp, stabbing pain would shoot down the right side of his head and into his eye. With it came the telltale flashing lights that he could see even with his eyes closed.

The first migraines had come when he was still in high school, usually when he was under stress. They'd been few and far between so he'd never given them much thought. It wasn't until he began his residency at Massachusetts General that they began recurring with more regularity and he'd finally been forced to seek medical help for them. If he hadn't already decided by then that a career in medicine was not something he was cut out for, the migraines it caused would have done it.

When he finished his residency, they'd begun to taper off. Not to the point that they completely disappeared but enough so that they weren't a worry anymore. They'd still come often enough at first, though, to prompt him to keep the prescription updated and filled. As time went by they became less and less frequent and the need to keep the valuable painkiller close by died away. At this point, it had been over 2 years since he'd last experienced one. Six months ago, he'd noticed the bottle of meds that he had was past the expiration date and threw it away. He'd never bothered going to a doctor to get a new one. Now he berated himself for that.

Despite the fact that sleep didn't come easily, he held himself very still in the bed curled as tightly into a ball as he could get. He knew from past experience if he gave into his need to toss and turn it would just mean reawakening the nausea he'd been feeling since afternoon. He'd offered more than enough of himself to the porcelain gods already without doing anything that would inspire yet another donation.

Eventually his body's need for rest and sleep won out and he slipped into a light sleep. His last conscious thought before giving into sleep was that he hoped that the migraine wouldn't last more than 24 hours. He could remember a few of them during his residency that had lasted days.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

By late morning, Al had gone from being mildly worried about Sam to all out concern. He'd never known a headache to last as long as Sam's had without something causing it. He'd begun to think of all sorts of gruesome thoughts but the one he kept coming back to was that the kid had a brain tumor or the like and if something weren't done, he'd die.

In between trips to the bathroom to relieve the ever-present nausea, Sam kept up a steady assurance that he didn't have a brain tumor, wasn't having a stroke, or any of the other dire predictions that Al kept spouting. Nothing he said went very far to mollify Al – not when Sam was having a difficult time just getting regular water to stay down. It was obvious that the aspirin he'd been taking weren't doing a bit of good.

After helping Sam to settle into the bed once more, something he was quickly getting expert at, Al declared that at the very least he was going to go out and see if he could find some extra-strength Excedrin or something similar for Sam to take. If Sam hadn't been in so much discomfort, he probably would have laughed at the way Al made the declaration.

"I couldn't find any Excedrin," Al reported when he came back to Sam's room. "I did find some Extra Strength Tylenol, though. I got you some of that. You think it'll work?"

He was so eager and concerned at the same time that Sam had to fight to hold back another laugh. "I hope so." He levered himself up in the bed and took the bottle from Al and shook four of the caplets into his hand. He handed the bottle back to Al and accepted the one of water he was holding in return.

"Uh, don't you think you're overdoing it if you take four at once?" Al squinted at the dosing directions printed in small type on the side of bottle. "It says here to only take two of them."

"I might as well just eat some M&M's if I'm only going to take two of them." Sam quickly swallowed the four caplets with a couple of mouthfuls of water. "Maybe I'll get lucky and they'll put me in a coma and I won't feel anything."

"Sam!" Al exclaimed immediately regretting raising his voice when he saw Sam wince at the sound. He was finding it easier to remember that the younger man had become hypersensitive to light than to sound. "Sorry," he said in a softer voice. "I forgot again."

Sam flopped back down to the pillow and waved off the apology. "'S'ok. I know you didn't mean it."

"I still don't think you should fool around about a coma and take more than you're supposed to. That could be dangerous."

Sam let out a deep sigh and squinted in Al's direction. "I was just kidding about that. Four of them aren't enough to put me in a coma even if that does seem like a good idea right now." Seeing the look of recrimination on Al's face, Sam held up his hands. "Sorry, I know it's a bad joke. Look, you don't have to keep hanging around here. There's nothing you can do for me. Go on and enjoy yourself. At least one of us should."

"Uh uh, no way. I'm not leaving you here alone. I'm still not convinced that this is just migraine."

Sam blew out another breath. "Suit yourself, then. I don't have it in me to try to convince you again." He rolled over so that his back was to Al and pulled into a huddle. "I'm just gonna try to sleep for a while."

Shaking his head, Al left the room. There was just no way this couldn't be more serious. Sam was still highly sensitive to light and sound and wasn't able to do much more than simply huddle in the middle of the bed in pain. Al didn't even want to consider betting on if or even how long Sam would be able to keep the Tylenol and water in his stomach before it made a resurgence. The odds makers downstairs wouldn't even consider that.

Feeling like his hands were tied and there was nothing he could do but still not willing to leave the suite, Al returned to living room and slumped down on the couch. He leaned forward long enough to grab the remote control off the table and started to mindless channel surf through the offered TV stations.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

By early afternoon there had still been no change in the level of the migraine although somehow Sam had managed to keep the Tylenol he'd taken down as well as a little more water that Al convinced him to drink a couple of hours later. Al suspected it was by sheer force of will on Sam's part and not because he was showing any improvement. He was in the younger man's room once again cajoling and bullying him into drinking more water. He may not have been a doctor himself but he knew that Sam had lost more fluids with all of the vomiting he'd been doing than he'd replaced and that that could end up being a problem in and of itself.

"Is it any better, even a little?" Al all but begged.

Sam gave a tiny shake to his head, all he was willing to try without exacerbating the pain. "No, it's no better at all."

"Please let me take you the hospital and see what this really is. Even if it is a migraine like you keep saying, they can probably give you something to take away the pain. You can't tell me you're enjoying being in pain."

"Of course I'm not enjoying the pain," Sam snapped. "Sorry," he immediately apologized. "I know you didn't really mean that. I'm just tired and getting frustrated with this." He rubbed his hand across his forehead before digging the heel of his palms into his eyes. "God, I just want this to stop long enough so I can think." When Sam spoke again, Al realized just how close to tears the combined pain and frustration were pushing Sam. "It just hurts so bad."

Gently Al sat on the edge of the bed careful not to jostle Sam. He lightly grasped Sam's wrists and pulled them down from his eyes. "I just want to help you get rid of the pain. If you won't go to the hospital, how about if you at least let me see if there's a house doctor who can have a look at you?"

It only took Sam a couple of seconds to consider Al's offer before he gave a tiny nod of agreement. "Yeah, ok. Maybe he has something that'll work better."

Al let out the breath he hadn't been aware he'd been holding and stood up from the bed. "I'll go call down to the concierge now and arrange for them to send someone up. You just sit tight."

Another tiny nod was Sam's only answer before he again curled up beneath the blankets.

A little less than an hour later, the house doctor was knocking on the door. Al opened it and ushered him in and over to Sam's room. He tried not to be offended when the doctor asked him to wait in the living room and shut the door in his face.

Sitting down anxiously on the edge of the couch, he waited for the doctor to make his reappearance. Every five minutes, he consulted his watch checking to see how much time had passed and all manner of dire predictions kept going through his mind. He was sure that at any minute the doctor would come rushing out yelling that an ambulance had to be called immediately…or, worse, that Sam had died while he was in there.

Finally, after 20 minutes the doctor calmly walked back into the living room and softly snicked the bedroom door shut behind him. Al was immediately on his feet accosting the man for information. "What's wrong? How is he? Does he need to go to the hospital? Could you do anything for him?" The questions tumbled out faster than the doctor could possibly answer.

The doctor finally held up his hands to slow Al down. With a chuckle, he invited the worried man to join him on the couch. "Mr. Beckett's going to be just fine." The man looked like he should be spending time dandling his grandchildren on his knees and telling them stories about the good old days more than he should be the house doctor at a busy Las Vegas casino. Idly, Al wondered if he moonlighted in December as a department store Santa Claus.

"So there's nothing wrong with him, then?" Al asked jumping to the most logical conclusion.

Again, the doctor chuckled softly. "Well, now, I didn't exactly say that. I said he'd be fine. He does have a migraine headache and they can be quite painful. From what he's told me, this isn't the first time he's experienced one."

Al shrugged helplessly. "I guess. I don't really know. This is the first time I know he's had one since I've known him."

"Well, whatever the case, I gathered from him that it's been a while since he's had one this severe. I've given him Fiorinal and that should help lessen the symptoms shortly. I've also left an envelope on the dresser with five more tablets in it. If the headache is still bothering him, he should take another in four hours but no more than six of them in a 24-hour period. If it's still bad at that point, he should seek further medical help. The Fiorinal will make him quite drowsy so as long as he's taking it he shouldn't drive or operate any machinery."

Al's lips twitched slightly. "I guess that means he should stay away from the casino downstairs."

The doctor let out a quick laugh. "Actually, they'd probably prefer it if I encouraged him to do just that." Rising from the couch, the doctor started to walk toward the door with Al close behind. "He'll probably sleep the rest of the afternoon now that he's got that in him and you'll probably see a noticeable improvement in him by this evening." They both stopped when they got to the door and the doctor turned to face Al. "If there are anymore concerns, make sure I'm contacted."

Al held out his hand to the man. "I will, Doc, and thanks for getting here so quick." Al opened the door for the man and once he'd left swung it shut behind him. He stared at the close door for a few seconds preoccupied with the thought of how grateful he was that there really wasn't something dire wrong with Sam. Shaking himself from the reverie he was drifting into, he turned and headed into Sam's room. As he walked in, the younger man was reaching for the bottle of water on the bedside table.

"I got it," Al said grabbing the bottled and uncapping it before handing it over.

"Thanks." Sam's voice was still muted and he still looked pale and drawn. The doctor had said it would take the meds a little while to really start to work.

After drinking his fill, Sam handed the bottle back to Al and tried to stifle a yawn that broke free. "I think that pill the doctor had me take is starting to work. I feel like I can't keep my eyes open."

"Then you should lie down and let it work," Al advised as he capped the bottle and returned it to the bedside table.

Following Al's advice, Sam stretched out under the blankets and mumbled his thanks when Al pulled them into place over him. "You need anything right now?" Al asked quietly once Sam was comfortable.

"No," Sam mumbled.

Al stood quietly by the bed for a few more seconds but when Sam didn't seem likely to say anything else he quietly slipped out pulling the door shut behind him.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

It wasn't until early evening that Sam finally came stumbling out of the bedroom. He had slept deeply since shortly after the doctor's visit. Al had gone in several times to check on him and each time he'd been in the same position. At first that had worried Al until he realized that unlike the night before or the morning, Sam wasn't sleeping pulled into a tight ball. He was sprawled across the bed taking up as much room as possible. The fact that he didn't move owed to how deeply asleep he was.

About 15 minutes before Sam made his appearance in the living room; Al had heard the sound of movements coming from the bedroom as Sam started to surface toward wakefulness. He'd thought it best to allow the younger man to wake on his own. "Feelin' better?" he inquired once Sam had slumped down on one of the armchairs.

"Yeah, I am," Sam mumbled around a yawn. Gingerly he stretched his arms over his head. Al noticed that the light that was on in the room didn't seem to be bothering him and that the lines of pain around his eyes had all but disappeared.

"I guess that stuff the doc gave you really worked."

"I figured it would," Sam agreed. "The headache's not completely gone," he pointed out, "but it's nothing that a couple of Tylenol or aspirin won't cure. Did you see where they got to?"

Al got up from the couch and retrieved the bottle of Tylenol from where had left it on the desk. He grabbed a bottle of water from the room's mini-bar before handing both over to Sam. He was pleased to see Sam only take out two of the caplets and swallow them with a good amount of the water.

Al resumed his seat on the couch and two sat in silence for a little while. "I'm really sorry to have screwed up your weekend," Sam offered after a while. "I know you hadn't planned on hanging around a hotel room while I threw up everything I've eaten in the last year."

"Hey, it could be worse," Al pointed out. "I could have lost everything at the craps table."

Sam looked at Al balefully over the bottle of water as he tipped it up for another swallow. "I'm so glad I was able to save you from losing your shirt," he said sarcastically once he swallowed the water. "It's nice to know my pain had a higher purpose."

"You know I don't mean it like that," Al said contritely. "I was just kidding around."

"I know," Sam agreed, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "You think you're the only one who can pull someone's leg."

"Idiot," Al said laughingly before throwing one of the pillows on the couch in Sam's direction.

Sam easily deflected the pillow. "Hey, I'm ill, remember." The puppy dog eyes he threw in Al's direction in accompaniment to his words sent the older man into a fit of laughter.

"Yeah, and I'm the Queen Mother," Al responded between chuckles.

With mock astonishment Sam declared, "So that's what you look like without a hat on. I would have never known."

Again, Al reiterated his comment of idiot and threw another pillow in Sam's direction. "Seriously," he said once both of their laughter had died down, "I'm really glad to see you're ok. You had me worried."

Sam blushed lightly and looked down to the floor. "I know, and I'm really sorry about that."

"There's nothing to be sorry about," Al pointed out as he too became slightly embarrassed by the turn in the conversation. "I just thought you should know 'cause, you know, it's a nice feeling to know someone else cares about you." Al well remembered how it was the fact that Sam cared about him as a person and was willing to put his own career on the line that had really reached through to him during the beginning days of their friendship and enabled him to begin to put aside a dependence he'd grown to think would always be a necessity in his life.

"Yeah, it is," Sam agreed softly. An uncomfortable silence fell on the room until the younger man saw fit to break it. "You know what, I think I'm hungry." Almost as if to give credence to his statement, his stomach gurgled loudly.

"Sounds like it," Al laughed. "I'm going to assume you're probably not up to going out for dinner somewhere."

"No. I think I'll just stick to room service if you don't mind."

Al retrieved the room service menu from the desk and handed it over to Sam so that he could make his selections and then called in an order for the two of them. He was pleased that Sam not only ate the majority of sandwich and soup he got but that he held them down with no problems.

By the time he'd finished eating; Sam's eyes were starting to grow heavy again. "I think I'm going to head back to bed," he told Al as he threw his napkin down over his plate. "I guess my body wants to make up for the sleep it didn't get last night." When he got to the bedroom door he turned back to Al. "Do me a favor, don't just keep sitting around out here. Go out and enjoy your vacation. We have to fly back tomorrow and you already lost today."

Al got up from the table and began to pile their used dishes back onto the room service tray. "I think I will go out and look for a little excitement but we don't have to leave tomorrow." He waited until he got the quizzical look he expected from Sam. "Our flight doesn't leave until Tuesday morning so we have all of tomorrow to enjoy ourselves…well, that is if you're up to finally getting out of the room."

"Tuesday morning?" Sam questioned starting to walk back in Al's direction. "We're supposed to be back at StarBright on Tuesday morning not getting on a plane in Las Vegas. You do remember this was a three day weekend, not a four day weekend? Can you get the flights changed or are we stuck or what?"

Crossing over to Sam, Al braced his hands on his shoulders. "Slow down a second, would ya and stop the worrying. You do remember I am the head of personnel. You're not going to get fired for not being there Tuesday morning."

"But…" Sam began to say only to be cut off.

"I took care of everything before we left," Al explained. "Everyone who should know our plans knows them. We're not expected back at StarBright until after noon on Tuesday. Hell, when I told Dr. Edwards I was going to drag you away for a few days he almost did a jig." Al looked seriously at Sam. "You know, he's afraid you're trying to get his job."

"I'm trying…I'm not," Sam protested. "I'm just trying to do the best job I can do. I'd never try to get his job."

Al started to chuckle at the earnestness of Sam's protest. "Relax, I was just yanking your chain."

Sam rewarded Al's statement with a look that Al had already categorized as Sam's look of exasperation. His lips pressed into a thin line and he looked at Al through slitted eyes. "Still doesn't explain why you went ahead and made these plans without telling me."

Grasping Sam by the shoulders and turning him around, Al gave him a little shove toward the bedroom. "'Cause, I knew if I did you'd just get yourself all worked up worrying about it and I'm right. Now instead of doing just that, and giving yourself another migraine, you go on to bed and get some sleep and I'm gonna go see if I can find some action."

"Action," Sam scoffed as he pushed the bedroom door open. "I know what your kind of action is. If you have to bring it back here keep it in your room and try to keep it down."

"Well, Sammy, I'll do the best I can," Al said with a leer. "Sometimes it's hard to keep it down when they're enjoying it, though."

"You're incorrigible," Sam muttered before shutting the bedroom door on Al's laughing face.

Al finished piling up the dishes on the room service tray and set the tray just outside the door in the hall. Once he was done with that, he freshened up and changed his clothes to something more suitable to the night he was hoping for. Poking his head quickly into Sam's room, he smiled when he saw the younger man sprawled on his back across the bed and heard the soft snores escaping from his mouth. He was down for the count. Pulling the door to the bedroom closed, Al started to whistle as he pulled open the suite door and exited off in search of the action he desired.


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

It was again the early hours of the morning when Al returned to the suite and quietly let himself in. He'd had, in his opinion, a successful night. He'd once again found Melody and spent some time with her. She'd been more than willing to continue the fun in his room. Despite the joking he and Sam had done earlier, he didn't feel right bringing her back to the suite knowing it hadn't been that long ago since Sam had been ill. Unfortunately, his suggestion that they adjourn to her room hadn't been any more favorable. She was in Las Vegas with a friend and didn't think that she'd appreciate Al's sudden appearance in the room.

Undaunted, the two had done the only thing they could think of…arranged for another room that was occupied by neither of their friends. Al was just now returning from a very satisfying tryst there.

As he walked through the door, he had a feeling of déjà vu as he remembered slipping in quietly like this the night before as well. As he let the door swing shut, he listened carefully almost expecting to hear the sounds of Sam sick in his bathroom once more. Instead it was only silence that greeted his ears. Needing to reassure himself that Sam was indeed perfectly fine, he slowly crept across the living room and quietly pushed open the door to Sam's room.

The sight that greeted him was in stark contrast to the scene the previous night. Sam was sprawled on his stomach diagonally across the bed. The blankets were tangled around his waist and his pillow had fallen to the floor though he didn't seem disturbed by it at all. His mouth was partially open and the rumbling that Al had become quite familiar with when they'd vacationed the year before in New Jersey was issuing forth. Creeping across the room, he retrieved the pillow from where it had fallen to the floor and tucked it under Sam's head. Pulling gently, he freed the blankets from the tangle they were in and pulled them up over the sleeping man. As he did so, Sam's head came up and he blinked rapidly in Al's direction. "Whassa matta?" he asked groggily.

"Nothin'. I was just picking up your pillow." Al whispered in reply. "Go back to sleep." Obediently, Sam put his head back down and was immediately back to sleep. "Good boy," Al couldn't help whispering while patting Sam gently on the back of the head. Were he still awake, Sam never would have let him get away with the puppy reference.

Creeping silently out of the room, Al pulled the door closed and retired to his own room yawning deeply as he walked across the darkened living room. With any luck, he'd be able to show Sam the good time tomorrow he'd been hoping the entire weekend would be.

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"Good morning," Sam cheerily called out when Al stumbled out of his bedroom later that morning. "I was wondering when you'd get around to getting up."

"It was a late night," Al muttered as he squinted in the bright light of room to where Sam was sitting on the couch, a book propped open in his lap. Spying the carafe of what he hoped was coffee on the dining table, he quickly grabbed it up and poured a cup. "You sound chipper this morning," he commented to Sam as he sat on the couch opposite him. "I take it you're feeling better."

"I feel like a new man." Marking his place in the book, Sam closed it and set it on the couch next to him before rising gracefully and picking his coffee mug up off the coffee table and going over to the carafe to refill it. "Is it safe to assume you had a good night?" he asked as he resumed his seat on the couch.

Al eyed him over the rim of his mug as he took a sip. "Oh, I guess you could say I got lucky last night." The look in his eyes left no doubt in Sam's mind exactly what he meant by lucky.

"I'll just bet. So, what do you have planned for today?"

Al quickly finished off the coffee in a gulp and put the mug down on the table. "Today I plan to show you that, contrary to what you seem to believe, Vegas is a great place to spend the weekend."

"If it's all the same," Sam started to say as he picked his book back up, "I'd rather just stay put and catch up on some reading."

Getting up from the couch he was sitting on, Al leaned across to Sam and plucked the book from his hands and tossed it on the couch behind him. "You didn't come all this way to read a book. You can do that at home. You're gonna go out there and have fun."

"Even if it kills me?" Sam asked with a smile.

"Even if it kills you." Al agreed before heading in the direction of his bedroom.

"You know, I did want to stay home this weekend," Sam reminded him.

"Yeah, but you didn't," Al shot back. "I'm gonna go take a shower and get dressed. Then we're going to go downstairs, grab some breakfast and I'm gonna show you how to have fun in this city."

"Breakfast?" Sam looked down at his watch. "It's after 10:30 already and I had breakfast."

Al stopped just outside the door to the bedroom. "Just what time did you get up anyway?"

"7:30," Sam answered matter-of-factly.

Al shook his head. "Kid, you gotta learn that part of being on vacation means sleeping in." He held up a hand to stop Sam before he could answer. "Despite what you think, 7:30 is not sleeping in."

"I've been ill," Sam reminded Al in a last ditch effort to get out of what Al thought was fun.

Al gave Sam a look of false sympathy that morphed in a mischievous look. "You just said you felt like a new man," he said throwing Sam's words back at him. He clapped his hands together once apparently considering the conversation closed. "Ok, once I'm ready I'll have breakfast, you can have brunch then, after that, I'll teach you the finer points of gambling."

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As it turned out, twenty minutes after they sat down at a Black Jack table Al realized he didn't really have to teach Sam anything about the art of gambling and the kid started to win hand after hand. He started to build up a sizeable pile of chips in front of him but didn't look like he was enjoying himself at all. Finally Sam indicated that he'd had enough and scooped up his winnings to leave the table.

"What are you doing?" Al said hurrying to catch up with Sam.

"I'm going to go cash this in," Sam said holding up the stack of chips. "I've had enough of this."

"Enough?! Enough?!" Al exclaimed. "Are you out of your mind? You're on a hot streak. You don't get up and walk away from that."

Sam stopped in the middle of the aisle and turned to face Al. "You do if you're smart and don't want to lose what you've won." He started to walk in the direction of the cashiers. "Besides, I wasn't having a 'hot streak' as you called it."

This time it was Al who ground to a halt grabbing Sam by the arm to stop him as well. "If it wasn't a lucky streak what was it? You're not gonna tell me you were counting cards, are you?"

At the question Sam looked down and shuffled his feet. "You can get thrown out for doing that," Al told him in an urgent whisper.

"I know that," Sam responded just as urgently and kept his voice just as low. "Why do you think I stopped playing?" He started in the direction of the cashiers again at a slower walk this time. "It's not even like I was trying to do it, ok. I just remembered all of the cards that had been played and then it's just a matter of figuring out statistically what a possible hand could be. I didn't try to do it. It just happens."

"It just happens?" Al questioned in disbelief. "You don't try to remember the cards you've just seen. It 'just happens'."

Sam nodded in agreement but sensed that Al somehow still disbelieved him. "I have an eidetic memory," he said although he seemed embarrassed by it.

"Eidetic mem….you have a photographic memory?" Al questioned in surprise. "How come you've never said anything before now?"

They'd finally reached the row of cages housing the cashiers and Sam got in line. "Because when I tell people it usually makes them start to act weird. Rather, they start acting like I'm weird. It's like they think I'm a recorder or something."

"Hmm…I can see how that can get uncomfortable." Al grabbed Sam's arm and pulled him out of line. "Ok, I can understand why you might not want to play Blackjack but that doesn't mean you have to stop completely. There are plenty of other games here that are totally based on chance."

Sam looked down at the pile of chips in his hand then up to Al's expectant face and appeared to weigh his choices. Taking some of the chips from the stack, he stuffed them into his pocket. "Ok, you're on."

"I knew there was no way you could resist the lure," Al crowed as he led the way across the casino.

Several hours later he and Sam had made the rounds of the roulette and craps tables. The stack of chips in Sam's hands had slowly disappeared until there were only a few left. "Here you take these and have fun," Sam said as he pressed the chips into Al's hand. "I've had enough and want to just go back up to the room."

"You ok, Kid?" Al asked. In the last hour Al had noticed that Sam had grown quieter and had rubbed his hand across his head a few times. He hoped it didn't mean a recurrence of the painful migraine.

"I'm fine, Al. Just getting a little tired is all. I want to go upstairs where it's quieter before I get another headache." He saw the worry on the older man's face. "Honest, I'm perfectly fine. I just need to go somewhere quiet for a while. Come up and get me for dinner and I'll be ready to go."

"You're sure?"

Sam nodded his assurance.

"Ok, then," Al agreed. "I'll come up and get your around 7:00 and we'll grab some dinner." He watched as Sam started to walk away and realized he was going in the wrong direction. "Hey, the elevators are over there," he called out pointing in right direction.

"I know," Sam said as he turned back in Al's direction. He put his hand in his pocked and pulled out the chips he'd put in there earlier. "I just want to cash these in. It's the exact amount I started with," he explained when he saw the question on Al's face.

"Only you, Kid," Al said in fond exasperation.

The two went off in separate direction to search out their own ideas of relaxation.


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

The next morning the two were at the airport early for their flight. After landing in Albuquerque they'd have nearly a two hour drive to get to StarBright and they both wanted to be able to stop off at their respective apartments first to drop off their luggage. It was no surprise that despite the earliness of the hour Sam was wide awake and eager to get back to work and Al was still half-asleep.

Al had returned to the suite a little after 7:00 and Sam had been ready and waiting to go out to dinner. They chanced to meet Melody and her room mate Maggie on the way to the restaurant and Al had invited the women to join them. At first Sam had been unsure but over the course of dinner he'd found Maggie to be an interesting dinner companion. She was about as different from Melody as Sam was from Al.

After dinner, the women had tried to persuade them to join them at one of Vegas' many shows but they'd declined the offer. As much as Al would have enjoyed it, he had to agree with Sam that it was more prudent to call it an early night since they had an early flight the next day. It disheartened him to have to bid the lovely Melody goodbye.

Now they were sitting at on the plane waiting for it to taxi down the runway and take off.

"Thanks for a great weekend, Al," Sam said out of the blue just as the plane took off.

"Great weekend?" Al questioned. "You spent most of it in bed sick with that headache and I know the rest of the time you weren't thrilled to be out gambling."

"I know," Sam agreed. "I got to spend time with a good friend, though, and we both survived the weekend so I guess it was great."

"Well, I'm glad you enjoyed it," Al said touched by Sam's words.

"Oh, I did, Al, I did." Sam got a mischievous look in his eye and Cheshire Cat grin lit up his face. "I can't wait 'til the next time we have vacation. This time, though, I'm picking where we go."

As the implication of where Sam might pick for a vacation went through his mind, Al's mouth opened and closed several times in imitation of a fish out of water. "Why do I have a feelin' you're cookin' up some kind of revenge?" he finally asked.

"Who? Me?" Sam asked with as innocent a look as he could manage. "Why ever would I want to get revenge?" The laugh that followed belied the innocent look.

"Oh boy," Al muttered just as the plane took off. "I think I'm in trouble."

The comment only served to make Sam laugh all the harder.


End file.
